


Ill Met By Moonlight

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Were the World Mine (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The play changed everything in Kingston. But there is always some resistance to change...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ill Met By Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This story makes a couple of references to my previous "Were The World Mine" stories. It can be read independently of them, but you might still want to check them out.

The spell had been cast. The magic had faded. And those who had needed a push towards the ones they should be with had embraced them. 

Robin Tebbit looked out the window of her classroom. It was her last day here at Morgan Hill, and she was pleased at her work. She’d managed to bring enlightenment to Kingston, and helped true love to bloom. She took great professional pride in her work, and was pleased at her success.

As she prepared to leave, though, she had a... _feeling_. She looked in the direction of the potted plant in the corner of the room and watched as it began to wither. “Oh dear,” she said to herself, knowing just what this meant, and why there was great cause to be concerned.

Her plan to leave town was going to have to be put on hold.

***

As he woke up, Timothy felt... different. Odd. It was like something was wrong, but he couldn’t pin down what it was that made him feel that way. It was... something in the air.

“Timothy, sugar! C’mon! Time to get up!” his mother called, forcing him to put aside that discomforting feeling. He dressed and headed downstairs. His mother smiled as he came down the stairs. “Morning, sugar.” Timothy mumbled something unintelligible in response and Donna just shook her head. _Teenagers..._ she thought to herself. She scooped the last of the scrambled eggs on the frying pan onto a plate and passed it to Timothy, taking her own to the table.

Breakfast was typically silent until the usual honk from the front, indicating Jonathon, Cooper, and Cole had arrived. “Gotta go, Mom.” 

“Have a good day, sugar!” Donna called after him. 

Timothy approached the truck, Cole in the driver’s seat and Cooper in the passenger’s next to him. Jonathon was in back like usual, waiting for him. “Hey,” Jonathon smiled as his boyfriend sat down next to him. He kissed Timothy’s cheek. 

Timothy smiled. He supposed that he’d never fully get used to the fact that he was now dating a rugby jock and was friends with the boys who had made his life a living hell from the moment he’d transferred to Morgan Hill until the play. He listened as the three of them discussed rugby. It went over Timothy’s head, since he’d never cared about the whole business before beginning to date Jonathon. And even now, he really only paid enough attention as far as it mattered for Jonathon. 

While they talked shop, Timothy let his mind wander. Graduation was approaching. Soon, he’d be able to leave Kingston far behind. Granted, the town had become a much better place for him since the whole thing with the pansy, but there were still some unpleasant memories associated with the town, and he’d rather just get out and go. It would, of course, depend on the acceptance from a college. Irritatingly, none of the colleges he’d applied to had yet to get back to him. Shouldn’t he have had confirmation a lot sooner than by the time that he walked across the stage?

“Have any of you guys heard from colleges?” he asked when there was a lull in the conversation.

Cooper shrugged. “I’ve gotten a couple of rejection letters, but nothing else.” Those always seemed to travel faster than acceptance letters. Interesting how that worked.

“Same here. If I don’t hear from some school soon, I’m gonna have to apply at the local college,” Cole added. He looked to Cooper. “You?”

Cooper’s grin suggested that not only should the answer be obvious but he was offended his boyfriend had to ask. “I’m going wherever you’re going, you dork.” Cole smiled at that, the kind of dopey smile that had once been the sure sign of pansy interference. 

Jonathon smiled himself and looked to Timothy. “Don’t worry about it, Puck,” he said. “By the time we get ready to cross the stage, you should have so many acceptance letters, you won’t know where to go.”

Timothy smiled in return. “Yes I will, Lys.” He took Jonathon’s hand. “We’re a package deal.” Jonathon’s smile hit another few thousand watts and the two shared a gentle kiss. 

It wasn’t long before Cole pulled into the Morgan Hill student parking lot and the four hopped out of the car. As the day went on, Timothy’s feeling of things being slightly off-kilter persisted. There was something strange about Morgan Hill today, but he just couldn’t figure what it was.

It was when he made it to Miss Tebbit’s room that he realized what the cause must be – Miss Tebbit was gone. The bust of Shakespeare, the watering pitcher, all the decorations from the play... All had vanished, as if they’d never been there. Instead, there were some strange looking tribal masks on the walls. An unfamiliar man sat at the desk, reading a book that Timothy couldn’t make out the title of. If there was one thing that seemed to be a defining element to him, it was black. He was dressed in black, had black hair, and there was even a black leather duster on a coat hanger in the corner. Likewise, the book he was reading was had binding and a cover of an equally dark color.

Timothy was almost instantly on edge as he examined this man. And curiously, he had the sensation of being examined as well, despite how the man hadn’t looked up from his book once.

His thoughts were broken up by the arrival of his fellow classmates. They took their seats, all quietly wondering about who this person was and what had happened to Miss Tebbit.

Finally the bell rang and the man closed his book and stood. “Good afternoon class. Miss Tebbit has been... called away early. My name is Mr. Corvus. I realize that, after your play a few weeks ago, you’re pretty much in a position to just coast through this class until graduation. However, there are still a few state required tests that will need to be handed out and taken. Otherwise, I’m inclined to just put a DVD of a performance on and let you goof off until graduation comes. In simplest terms, just consider me just a substitute.” He smiled. “Hopefully, the kind you don’t mock mercilessly, of course.”

That instantly endeared Mr. Corvus to the majority of the class. Timothy was the only one who didn’t break into a huge grin at the announcement. It was just that same uneasy feeling, the nagging thought that something wasn’t right. Timothy thought about it a moment, realizing that part of his feeling had something to do with the fact that Mr. Corvus was pretty much smoothly selling himself to the class, in that oily used car salesman kind of way. That just set him further on edge. Maybe it wasn’t just Miss Tebbit’s absence that was setting off warning bells in his head.

Jonathon looked to Timothy with a smile. “At least there’s one cake class, huh?”

“I think Miss Tebbit would have kept the class fairly easy anyway,” Timothy said, his discomfort about Mr. Corvus coming through.

Jonathon looked at Timothy, confused. “Something wrong?”

Timothy shrugged, unsure. “I don’t know. Just...” He couldn’t put into words what the cause of his discomfort was. He summoned up a smile, trying to put Jonathon at ease. “Maybe I just want Miss Tebbit back.”

Jonathon nodded, understanding where he was coming from. He took Timothy’s hand, drawing his attention away from whatever concerns he might have. 

And neither saw Mr. Corvus, standing on the other side of the room, giving them an examining look.

***

Frankie would do a lot for Timothy. She’d given him a safe place to stay while he waited for his mother to leave his father. She’d been a constant sympathetic ear when he’d needed to talk about his troubles. She hadn’t killed him for him spraying Max or those cheerleaders with the pansy, either. But attending rugby practice with him so that he could watch and cheer Jonathon on was pushing it. 

It didn’t help that she, Max, and Timothy were all clueless about how to play the game. “It’s like three weeks to graduation. Shouldn’t the final competition or tournament or whatever have been played already?” she asked, wanting to get away from this field. 

“It’s this weekend. Had to push it back because of the play,” Timothy answered. 

Frankie couldn’t resist a sly smile. “You mean because play practice took up all their time or because their coach didn’t want them prancing onto the field and giving a kickass ballet performance instead of playing the game?”

Timothy rolled his eyes with an affectionate smirk. “Coach was pansied too, remember?” 

Frankie nodded sagely, knowing that just agreeing with him was going to get things over quicker. “I really have to ask, why am I here, again?”

“Because you love me and support me in my efforts to support my boyfriend.”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Fuck that,” she said with a good natured laugh. 

Max shook his head. “I still don’t believe all that stuff about magic flowers or whatever.” Max’s memory of the spell had seemed to slip away, becoming just a dream to him. Timothy had just let it go, since he got it from everyone at school as well – they knew that things had changed, but the whys and hows were all forgotten. The only ones who seemed to actually remember exactly what had happened who had been pansied were himself, Jonathon, Cooper, and Cole. 

The trio stayed in the stands, waiting for a break. When it finally came, Jonathon came running over to Timothy, a grin on his lips. “Hey. You see that last play?”

Timothy nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you still have no idea what I was doing, don’t you?”

“You look good doing it,” Timothy offered. Jonathon rolled his eyes and gave Timothy a quick kiss. 

Frankie glanced around the field and noticed trouble – the kind with a capital ‘T’ – approaching. “Guys? Don’t look now, but...” She pointed and Timothy and Jonathon turned to see Jonathon’s ex, Becky, on the other side of the field, glaring daggers in their direction.

Both of the objects of her irritation rolled their eyes. “Doesn’t she ever give up?” Jonathon asked, his question directed more to the stars than to any of his friends.

“Didn’t you say she only was interested in you because you’re the star of the rugby team?” Timothy asked.

Jonathon shrugged. “I thought she was.”

“Girl is obsessed,” Max offered. They watched as Becky’s friend, Crystal, hurried her on, desperate to get her focusing on something other than the two. 

With a shake of his head, Jonathon looked back to Timothy. “Look, just forget about her.” Before he could fully refocus his boyfriend’s attention, the tweet of coach’s whistle signified the end of the break. 

“Go play,” Timothy said, motioning for Jonathon to get back on the field. Jonathon did so, flashing a quick grin to the trio in the stands.

Max looked to Timothy. “How much trouble has she been giving you guys, anyway?”

Timothy shrugged. “Could be worse. Not that I like it, but she’s mostly just doing that whole ‘I want you to die’ glare every time she sees us.” 

“Didn’t you say that anyone sprayed by your flower or whatever were supposed to have... I don’t know... had their minds ‘opened,’ or whatever?” Max asked, again displaying his disbelief in the whole pansy escapade. 

He still had a good question, and it had bothered Timothy for a while. Maybe the poor girl really had loved Jonathon, rather than just his status. If she had, he did feel bad about taking away the person she loved, though he wouldn’t give up Jonathon for anything or anyone. He was, however, reluctant to believe that she really was in love, given that if you love someone, you should want to see them happy. Jonathon had pretty clearly been miserable with her as his girlfriend, and was happier than ever with Timothy. But if that was true, then why did Becky seem to have such a hard time letting go?

He didn’t know, and that bothered him. 

***

After practice had let out, Timothy, Frankie, and Max joined the rugby players in their regular pizza feast at Preston’s Pizza. It was traditionally just a rugby player ‘thing,’ but first Jonathon had invited Timothy along, trying to get his boyfriend to be interested (or at least knowledgeable) about his favorite sport. Then Timothy hadn’t argued Frankie inviting herself along. And none of the rugby players were quite able to bring themselves to argue with Frankie – any girl who could whip a band into shape to give a kickass performance without the benefit of a dress rehearsal (and very little rehearsal time in the first place) earned quite a bit of respect and fear. Max was just her plus one.

Timothy spent most of this night out contemplating his slice of pizza, however. Given the rowdiness of the other boys, he managed to fly under the radar until Jonathon noted that he hadn’t moved from his spot for a while. “You okay?”

Timothy looked up in surprise, having been lost in thought. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Just... thinking.”

“Thinking about... what, how to drill a hole in that slice of pizza with only the power of your mind?” Jonathon joked. 

“It could come in handy,” Timothy said, a smile poking at his lips. Truth to tell, he didn’t really know what he was thinking of specifically. It was the combination of Miss Tebbit’s sudden and complete disappearance, Mr. Corvus and that strange feeling he’d given him, and Becky’s appearance at practice. Something about that combination was leaving Timothy feeling uncomfortable. It was like building the perfect storm of trouble.

Jonathon patted Timothy’s shoulder. “C’mon.” He motioned to the door, Timothy following him out. It was cloudy and humid out, indicating a storm was coming. That made another ingredient to the discomfort that Timothy was feeling. Jonathon looked at him curiously. “So what’s wrong, huh?”

That just got him a shrug from his boyfriend. He couldn’t name what he was feeling, just a general feeling of discomfort. The wind blew and, despite the humidity, Timothy shivered. Jonathon pulled him close. Timothy smiled at the contact, feeling a little better about it all.

“Timothy, if something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m always here for you, you know that, right?”

Timothy nodded. “Yeah, I know. I don’t... Nothing’s wrong, exactly. It’s just... a feeling. Something feels off.”

“Maybe it’s just everything about to change again. I mean... The town just started to accept you, we got together, you’re... kinda popular now... And in just a few weeks, we graduate, we’re gonna be going off to college... You just got used to the changes, now it’s all gonna change again.”

“Maybe...” Timothy nodded. That could be it. Somehow, though, the explanation didn’t seem to explain everything or make it all seem better. Something in the air just seemed off, and he seemed to be the only one realizing it. But he tried to convince himself that Jonathon was right and it was just the changes in their lives on the horizon making him feel this way. 

The two walked back to Timothy’s home, though it was a little out of Jonathon’s way. He didn’t mind. They’d just gotten into sight of it when it started to sprinkle, then pour, like someone upstairs had left the water running. They ran the rest of the way, though they were both smiling as they ducked under the protection of the roof hanging over the porch. 

“Probably shouldn’t try walking home in this,” Jonathon said, noting that the rain was getting even heavier. 

Timothy nodded, fishing for the key to the front door. “Come on. You can call your Dad inside.” Both of their parents had made clear their discomfort with the boys sleeping over, at least on school nights. Not wanting to make waves, they’d agreed to indulge them. 

It wasn’t that long before Richard Cordin arrived. Jonathon kissed Timothy goodbye, then raced out to the car. Timothy got a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, and felt the urge to beg and plead for an exception to the rule, just this once, but Jonathon was already gone.

And for some unexplainable reason, Timothy had a terrifying feeling that he wasn’t going to see Jonathon again.

His mom approached him. “Sugar, something wrong?” she asked. 

Timothy shook his head. “I... It’s nothing, Mom.”

With a skeptical look, Donna nodded. “All right.” She let the matter slide and patted his shoulder. Timothy just stared at the retreating headlights of the Cordin car, wondering why he had this sense of impending doom.

***

Morning came, as equally imposing a sky as the previous night, though by now, the rain had stopped, leaving just the gloom of the overcast sky. Timothy looked out the window and to the great storm clouds that had rolled in. He sighed. Just what he needed, to be rained on while he rode his bike up to school. It was days like this he wished he had a car.

He had a quick breakfast before heading out, a slicker on and a hat covering his eyes. Timothy hated riding his bike in this weather, but what alternative did he have?

After chaining up his bike at the rack he entered the building, keeping his head down. _Less than a month now. That’s it. After that, you’re done and can get outta here._ It was practically his survival mantra these days. How else was he supposed to survive a school that hated him? More specifically, they hated his difference – to hate him that would imply that anyone here actually tried to know him beyond just ‘the gay kid.’

As usual, he kept his head down during the day... Until he caught sight of Jonathon Cordin, the rugby star. Timothy would privately admit to having a crush on the guy (okay, he’d also admitted it to Frankie and Max), but today, the image of Jonathon and him holding hands... That was almost too real. Less like a fantasy, more like... a memory. Timothy shook his head, pushing the fantasy away. _Back to good old depressing reality._

As usual, the school day was a pain in the ass, but he put up with it. He just repeated his mantra over and over all through PE. There were days that graduation credit didn’t seem worth it. 

Finally, it came to drama, the last class of the day. Mr. Corvus seemed to have made himself even more at home than he had the previous day. For a second, Timothy tried to remember what it was like with Miss Tebbit here, but found that it was difficult to picture the room as she’d had it. Timothy found that odd, but as he tried to focus on it, Mr. Corvus rapped against the blackboard, forcing his attention up there.

“Okay, gentlemen. I know I said that you were basically getting a cake class until the end of the year, but there are still some formalities.” He pulled out a handful of papers. “I have some state-mandated tests, please stay quiet as you fill them out, and then you’re dismissed.” There was groaning, which got a nod out of Mr. Corvus. “I know. Boring. But you’ll get out early, so, silver lining.” With that, he began handing out the tests. 

The other students tore through the tests, wanting to get done and gone quickly. Timothy, though, lingered, waiting until they were all gone. Jonathon was the last one out and... was it Timothy’s imagination, or did he linger as well, looking back at him? It had to be his imagination, something that his crush and earlier fantasy created.

As Timothy finished, he placed his test on Mr. Corvus’s desk. Although Mr. Corvus had picked up his book and resumed reading it, Timothy still felt like he was being watched. He left the class and made his way out of the school.

***

Frankie and Max found him, as usual, in the park later on, while he sat, reading. For some reason, he’d been interested in Shakespeare lately. He didn’t know why. Maybe he’d absorbed more in that play than he’d thought. Though for some reason, he couldn’t really remember the play all that clearly.

Frankie, guitar in hand, sat on his left, Max on his right. “Hey. What’s with the glum look?” Frankie asked.

“What glum look? This is how I always look,” Timothy said, surprised at the comment. He’d been reading, how did that translate to him having a ‘glum’ look?

Frankie looked him over, examining him. “I don’t know. Something seems...” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Max reached over and grabbed the book out of Timothy’s hands. “When did you start reading Shakespeare?” he asked.

Timothy shrugged. “Just kinda... fell into it. Thought it was interesting.” 

Frankie looked to Max. “Hey, lay off of him. Shakespeare is one of the giants, remember?” She turned to Timothy as he snatched his book back from Max. “This cuz of the play?” she asked.

Again Timothy shrugged. “Just... felt like reading some Shakespeare. Does it have to mean anything more than that?” 

Frankie shook her head. “No, but... I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Okay, uh, this may sound weird, but... How much do you remember about the play?”

That struck a chord with Timothy, since he was having difficulty remembering anything about the play. He’d wondered if it was just him, but it wasn’t as if he had many people to talk to about it. Still, he wasn’t quite to where he was willing to openly discuss his uncomfortable feelings of the past couple of days. “We did it, people liked it... What else is there?”

Not the thing to say. Frankie got that look in her eye, the one that said she’d found a bone and wasn’t going to let go of it. “Yeah, but what do you remember about it? I mean details. Anyone flub their lines? Miss a mark?” She grabbed the book out of Timothy’s hands. “Recite some of your lines. No help.”

Timothy struggled to find an answer. Max spared him by jumping back into the conversation. “What does it matter?”

With a shrug of her own, Frankie shook her head. “I don’t know. But when no one seems to remember the play, not even its star, I think something’s up.”

And Timothy couldn’t disagree with that summation. Trouble was, he didn’t know what that something was.

***

Timothy couldn’t get what Frankie had said earlier out of his head. He knew he should be able to remember what had happened at the play, but he couldn’t. And that bothered him. He knew that the play had been a hit, that he’d always managed to attend practices... But he couldn’t remember anything about the play. It was if there was a fog, some kind of haze, surrounding his memories of everything related to the play.

After struggling to remember something about the play, Timothy finally admitted defeat. He slipped out of his house the next morning and headed for Frankie’s. As he expected, she was on her porch, plucking away at her guitar. She looked up at his arrival. 

“Hey. What’s up?” she asked as he leaned against the railing opposite her.

“I’ve been thinking.”

She laughed. “Well that’s never good. What about?”

“What you said yesterday. I’m going to regret saying this... You’re right.” Frankie gave a satisfied smile. Those were two of her favorite words.

“I’m always right. About what?”

“About... the play, and how everything about it seems off.”

Frankie nodded, having been doing her own examination into everything. It was just so hard to believe that the entire town had been at the play and no one remembered anything about it. “Glad someone finally agrees with me. I hate being the only sane person in a room.” And she’d felt that feeling more than enough times lately... Why had she? She knew that she’d felt that way, but now she couldn’t remember the reason. Another little mystery? She wondered if was related. “So we’ve got gaps in peoples’ memories about the play. Anything else that’s weird?”

Timothy considered for a minute. The only thing that had really been out of the ordinary lately had been Jonathon’s sudden starring role in every fantasy in far more vivid detail. That was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit, though. Besides, what did that have to do with anything? “Nothing major that I can think of.”

Frankie scowled, having wanted something a bit more solid to work with. “Well, since all of this started around the play, maybe we should check out what was happening on that day.” She hopped up, a determined look on her face.

And Timothy had long ago realized that when she got that look on, there was no stopping her – she became a force of nature. Best to go along or get out of the way.

Which meant that he was set now – Frankie’s investigation into the play was going forward, and he was going to be pulled along for the ride.

“Have you spoken with Miss T about this?”

Timothy shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in a couple days. There’s a new theatre teacher up at Morgan Hill.” 

Saying that stirred something with the both of them, a memory half forgotten. Something that was important about Miss Tebbit, which meant that her absence and these strange sensations, feeling of something being off, had something related to her. The question was what.

Frankie grinned. “Then I’d say we go and find her.”

***

The problem with Frankie’s plan of locating Miss Tebbit was that they didn’t have an address for her, and she wasn’t listed in the phone book. “Does she even have a phone?” Frankie asked as another search through another phone book proved fruitless. 

“How should I know? It’s not like we met for tea,” Timothy responded. The longer Frankie had him looking through phone books and e-mail addresses and whatever else she could think of to direct them Miss Tebbit’s way, the more Timothy began to reconsider what they were doing. It was crazy, thinking that one drama teacher was the cause of all the strangeness that both of them had been feeling lately. It was much more likely that one of them had snapped and the other had hit their head.

But Frankie wasn’t going to let a little thing like the lack of a phone number hold her back. This dog had her bone, and she wasn’t letting go. “If she’s not in the phone book, maybe Doctor Bellinger has her personal information.”

Timothy rolled his eyes and gave her a disbelieving look. “Right, and he’s going to just hand it over when you ask nicely. Invasion of privacy much?”

“Well what else do you suggest?” she asked. “And don’t say ‘forget it,’ because SOMETHING’S going on.”

“You’re so sure of it?”

“Yes, I am.” The strength of Frankie’s voice was convincing in its own way, though Timothy’s gut reaction was still to argue against what she was saying for some reason. Part of him wanted to just call it quits here, that this was just their own overactive imaginations. The thing that kept him from listening to it was... What? Why was he putting himself through this if he thought that there was no point to it?

They were wandering by the rugby field. The game was in full swing. Timothy paused when he caught sight of Jonathon running around the field. He didn’t know anything about the game, but he could tell Jonathon was good.

He apparently stared longer than he’d planned, as eventually, Frankie poked him in the side. “Either get a bib or ask him out already!” she stage-whispered. She added a gentle shove towards the field for added emphasis.

Just as Timothy was about to turn and yell at her for it, Jonathon looked away from the game for a moment and looked to him. Their eyes met and for a moment... Timothy felt like he was remembering another life, one where Jonathon’s arms were wrapped around him, their lips pressed together, their hearts beating in time. The memories were so vivid... They had to be real. Timothy’s imagination was good, but not like that.

Then Jonathon’s attention was pulled back to the game, while Timothy just stared after him. There were a couple of glimpses of Jonathon looking in his general direction that made Timothy think that he wasn’t alone in feeling that flash of... something. There still seemed to be something between them, something more than just Jonathon being the only decent person at Morgan Hill. It took a moment, but Frankie noticed his lingering. “Seriously, will you two just kiss already?” she asked with a grin.

“Frankie...” Timothy no longer had any doubts. Something about the world had changed. 

And Frankie picked up the change in Timothy’s tone. “What? What is it?”

With certainty, he started moving, heading towards the school. “We’ve gotta find Miss T.” Though she didn’t know where this burst of confidence in something having changed came from, Frankie wasn’t about to stop him now.

***

Over on the field, Jonathon couldn’t shake this little... feeling, a niggling sensation as he glanced out across the field and saw Timothy run off with that friend of his, the girl... Frankie, her name coming to his mind, though he shouldn’t have known it. He didn’t know any of Timothy’s friends. Though he was glad for some reason that he had them...

Taylor patted his back. “Hey, Jonathon. C’mon. We still have to finish the game.” 

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Jonathon turned to him. “Right. Right.”

Glancing in the direction that he’d been looking, Taylor saw Timothy and Frankie running off. “She’s kinda cute. You know, in that ‘bohemian vegan’ kind of way.” He seemed to be suggesting that Jonathon, who had a girlfriend, might be interested in this girl. Normally, Jonathon would have made some remark about Taylor’s intentions toward Becky if he was trying to set him up with some other girl.

But his thoughts were still on Timothy.

***

Officially, Morgan Hill was supposed to be closed on Saturdays. But Doctor Bellinger had often used the opportunity to deal with his paperwork while Nora operated her fancy make-up company from home (meaning she and some of her preferred customers got together and gossiped all day). It was much quieter doing this, which, as much as he loved his wife, he desperately needed when he was dealing with the various bits of paperwork that his position required.

As a result, he was in his office when Timothy and Frankie arrived. Frankie nearly bowled him over, just managing to catch himself.

To Timothy, though, it might as well have been his friend trying to run him over with a bulldozer. “Oh God! Doctor Bellinger, I am so sorry for-”

Doctor Bellinger waved off the apology. “Never mind that, no serious harm done.” He looked between the two, recognizing Timothy as a student (how could he forget Morgan Hill’s most controversial student enrollment). He figured that the girl must be a friend of his. He looked to Timothy. “Now, what exactly brings you here on a Saturday?” he asked.

“Uh, well, uh...” Timothy’s mind drew a complete blank, being unable to come up with something to tell his principal, some explanation for why he wanted to get an address for Miss Tebbit.

Luckily, Frankie was a bit quicker on her feet than he was. “We were wanting to send a thank you and good luck card to Miss Tebbit, you know, given all her hard work on the play. We were wondering if you had a forwarding address for her.”

Doctor Bellinger smiled at the statement, pleased to see that there was still some respect in this generation. “I’m not sure. Give me a minute to consult my records.” He turned and reentered his office. Given the attitude most of the people in Kingston, it was surprising to both Timothy and Frankie at how easily he was giving this over.

“That’s a bit of a surprise,” Frankie said as Doctor Bellinger’s office door closed.

“Doctor Bellinger’s one of the few people in the school who treats me like a person,” Timothy clarified. For some reason, that didn’t seem right. He had a flash of memory, the kind like he’d had of him and Jonathon together, of hanging out with Cooper and Cole as well as Jonathon, Frankie, and Max. But they hated him, right? He shook his head. “I really hope Miss Tebbit has some idea of what’s going on. Otherwise, I’m just going crazy.”

Frankie shook her head. “Hey. None of that. We’re not crazy. You’re the one who said that you remembered things so vividly they had to have happened, remember? Jonathon? There’s a reason for it. There has to be, and we just can’t remember.”

She was right. Timothy knew she was. But there was something inside him that seemed to be pushing him to forget it, to just let those feelings of there being something wrong slip away and let it all lie. Why was that there?

He was about to try and see if Frankie was having these same feelings when Doctor Bellinger returned. “Well, I’m afraid I don’t have a forwarding address, but, given the point in the school year, I’d say she likely hasn’t yet packed up and moved on. I don’t believe there are any openings available for her at the moment.” He handed Timothy a slip of paper with an address on it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Looking in triumph at the address, Frankie snatched it out of Timothy’s hand. “This is what we needed. Thanks, Doctor.” With that, she dragged Timothy back out of the school. 

As she marched them in the direction of the apartments listed on the paper, she wound up taking them back by the rugby field. The game had concluded, and Timothy had an idle feeling of disappointment, realizing that he had missed the game entirely. “I don’t even like rugby...” he murmured to himself. But he’d missed cheering on his boyfriend. He started looking around for Jonathon and...

Boyfriend?

Rolling the word around in his mind, Timothy realized that the word fit the feelings he was having, even if they didn’t match his memories. He had a boyfriend. And that boyfriend was Jonathon Cordin. He knew that with every fiber of his being. And he loved his boyfriend.

“Frankie?” he called. Fortunately, it only took the one call to snap her out of her determined march. She looked back to him quizzically. “I don’t know if Miss T can help, but... I know Jonathon and I are... We’re supposed to be together.”

She looked to the field, looking to see if the jock was there. “Who do you want to talk to more?”

There was the question. For a moment, Timothy debated. Miss Tebbit could have answers to what had happened. But Jonathon... “Jonathon.” He didn’t even know he’d made the choice until he said his boyfriend’s name. The more he thought it, the more ‘boyfriend’ felt like the right word. There was a rightness to thinking it. 

Frankie smiled and nodded. “Go. I’ll find Miss T. You... you focus on what’s important.” He smiled gratefully at her and headed for the field. He didn’t know where he was supposed to find Jonathon, but... thinking about it some more led him to think of a few places where the rugby team might be heading. But the game couldn’t have been over for long, which probably meant that the team was... getting changed.

He rolled his eyes at the realization that he was about to put himself in a position to make those old public school rumors about himself be true. Granted, he wasn’t going into the locker room and spying on the jocks, just trying to find one, who happened to be in there. 

Speaking of... As if his day wasn’t going bad enough, Becky and her friend Crystal were standing around outside the locker room. And, of course, Becky saw him approach, crossing her arms and attempting to give him the mother of all stinkeyes.

“What are you doing here, fag?” she spat. 

Biting back a retort that would have caused more trouble than it was worth, Timothy sighed heavily. “I need to speak with Jonathon. It’s important.”

“What could you have to say to him that he needs to hear?” she asked with a scoff and a haughty glare. Timothy was surprised to see Crystal roll her eyes at Becky’s words, as if she thought the other girl was making too big a deal out of this. 

She tugged on Becky’s arm. “C’mon, Becky,” she said, now definitely sounding like she wanted to avoid the situation and let it all go.

“No. If Jonathon needs to hear something, he can hear it from someone who won’t be ogling him the whole time.”

Timothy scoffed. “If that bothers him, I’m surprised he hasn’t ditched you, since you keep sizing him up like a slab of meat.” He didn’t know where the sentiment came from, but he knew they were right. Without knowing why he knew it, he knew that Becky saw Jonathon as little more than a prize to parade around town. He was a trophy to her, not a person, and definitely not someone she cared about. 

Just as both were about to come to blows, the door to the changing area opened, Taylor popping his head out. “Hey, is everything okay out here?” He sounded like he was more checking to defuse a fight than he was just casually popping his head out.

Before Becky could make some remark, Timothy looked to him. “I’m looking for Jonathon. It’s important.” Taylor nodded and popped back in. Becky crossed her arms, glaring daggers at Timothy. By this point, he was used to the act and managed to tune her out.

It took a couple of minutes, but finally Jonathon’s head popped out of the building. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

This time, it was Becky who was first to speak. “Just the fag wanting to speak with you,” she said derisively. What she didn’t seem to notice was the scowl that her words elicited from her boyfriend. 

Instead of what Becky had expected, and what Timothy had even feared, Jonathon looked to Timothy and nodded, motioning to the building. “Wanna have some privacy?”

Becky’s eyes practically bugged out of her head that Jonathon was actually willing to listen to what Timothy had to say. Timothy had to resist flashing a triumphant smirk at her – it would just be unsporting at this point. 

Jonathon led him to a small room, cut off from prying eyes. “What is it?” he asked. He sounded genuinely interested, not merely humoring Timothy.

Suddenly, Timothy’s mouth went dry and his mind went blank. He’d been acting entirely on reflex to this point, just jumping from moment to moment without knowing what exactly he would be doing next and now he had no idea what he was going to say – he couldn’t just blurt out how he KNEW, deep in his bones, that he and Jonathon were supposed to be together and expect to walk out of here in one piece. He looked to Jonathon, and struggled to make words come out. All he could do, looking at who he was certain was supposed to be his boyfriend, was stare at him.

After a long moment of silence, Jonathon gave a slight chuckle. “Timothy? You wanted to speak with me.” He was giving Timothy a strange look, a smile managing to poke on his face. He placed a hand on Timothy’s arm, a gesture meant to comfort. The skin-on-skin contact caused Timothy to jump slightly. He looked to Jonathon, seeing his closeness and then looked up to his eyes. It was like there were sparks jumping between them.

Timothy didn’t know who kissed who first, but it really didn’t matter.

Kissing Jonathon was at once new and familiar. As they held each other, Timothy was hit with a flood of memories – _the pansy, the rehearsal where he sprayed everyone, the fair, the day at the lake, the performance, the kiss on the balcony, the dates, the hand holding, the secret looks... Jonathon’s mother leaving because she couldn’t handle her son being gay, their plans for the future, college, after, together_ – and he was... back. Whatever had happened to him had faded away. He was himself again.

He pulled back from Jonathon, just slightly, hoping to see the same spark of recognition in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Timothy?” The one word said it all. Jonathon, too, had remembered. “What happened?” 

As much as Timothy would like to stay in Jonathon’s embrace, that was a good question. He started thinking over the last few days, and what had been different about them. What had set off the chain reaction of everything that had changed? And that thought was enough to give him an idea.

“I don’t know, but I have an idea who does.”

***

They had a brief gauntlet trying to get out of the locker room without Jonathon getting pulled into Becky’s clutches. Somehow, though, they managed to get away. Now, Timothy just had to figure out where Frankie had gotten to – she’d been trying to find Miss Tebbit, and if they could find her, they could find Mr. Corvus.

Jonathon shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it all. “I don’t get it. I... remember what really happened, but... I remember being with... Becky this whole time, too.” He couldn’t help but make the sound of having been with her, instead of being with Timothy, sound like it had been a fate worse than death – to be separated from the man he loved was just that.

“I know it sounds crazy... But I think it’s... magic.” He didn’t have a better explanation for events than that.

Had he been speaking with someone who hadn’t gotten together with him while under the influence of water sprayed from a flower, he would probably have had the assessment of crazy confirmed. “Given what we’ve been through, I’d believe it. But... You think Miss Tebbit will have the answers?”

“She’ll at least understand this better than we do. That’ll be a start, right?” Timothy really had no idea what they were supposed to do about all of this. It’s not as if undoing or redoing or whatever magic was an everyday occurrence, even if the people in Kingston probably had more experience than most with magic. Or had, anyway – if their memories had been played with like this, who knew what they remembered experiencing. Thinking about it was headache inducing. 

While Timothy was still trying to figure out where to go (of all the times for him to not have a cell phone so he could call Frankie and find out where she was...), Jonathon had something to take care of himself. He pulled Timothy into a small alleyway between two stores. It offered as much protection from them being spotted as was possible in the middle of the day on a weekend, and he wanted a few moments of privacy before they got down to business.

“Timothy? I know this is all crazy, but... Look, I need you to say it out loud for me.”

“Say what?” Timothy was normally on the same page as Jonathon, but with whatever had been going on, scrambling their brains, it was clearly (and understandably) throwing him off his game.

“That I’m not dreaming. That, despite remembering being with Becky, all that time, I was really with you.” A beat. “That you love me like I love you. Because with all of these memories... I’m having trouble telling what’s real and what’s not.”

The look that Timothy gave him reflected his love, making a further answer unnecessary. But Timothy still took Jonathon’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Even if I weren’t sure that we’ve been together, I would want to be with you.” For the rest of his life, so long as he had a say in it. 

For an extended beat, Jonathon took comfort in both Timothy’s words and his touch. Then he took a deep breath and pulled back, reluctantly letting go of his hand – if whatever spell that had helped them come together had been undone, they suddenly both had to be a lot more careful. Kingston was no longer a friendly place for them. Homophobia was all the rage again.

“All right. Let’s go find Frankie.” They got moving again.

***

Frankie had managed to find an empty apartment. It had been cleaned out, and the manager said that the lease had ended. She had delivered all of this information to Timothy before she registered that Jonathon had accompanied him. 

“...And... hello.” She looked to Timothy with a questioning look. He smiled slightly and took Jonathon’s hand. She made a happy bouncing motion before her determination put itself back together – now, she had something definitive to say that she would call proof that SOMETHING had happened to the town. 

As much as Timothy wanted to savor that fact, that there was someone who considered him and Jonathon being together as something to be happy about who wasn’t him and Jonathon, he needed her to focus. “Frankie, if Miss Tebbit isn’t here, what are we supposed to do?” Miss Tebbit was their only way to fix things, put them back as they were. 

“We’ll... we’ll figure something out.” The fact that they didn’t know where to find her was a serious problem. She was their only clue to fixing whatever had happened to Kingston, even if they couldn’t tell what it was that actually had happened. 

“We could try to find Mister Corvus,” Timothy said. Both Frankie and Jonathon looked at him, confused. “He’s got to be behind this. He shows up right before everything changes, and I’ve had a bad feeling about him since he did.”

For a moment, Timothy wasn’t sure if they believed him. He wasn’t even sure that he really believed himself, all things considered. The fact that Corvus had arrived at the same time wasn’t exactly evidence in and of itself. Though it certainly wasn’t hurting the case. Given what Kingston had been through because of Miss Tebbit to begin with, the strange occurrence and the appearance of someone unfamiliar, and the fact that they had all had some kind of mental fog in place, seeming specifically related to the play that the three of them had some vivid memories of, all seemed to add up to something.

Jonathon took a moment, then he nodded. “You’re right. I mean, the play happened because of Miss Tebbit. The moment she’s gone, Corvus shows up, and then everything’s back to the way it was before she came here. If we can’t find her, let’s go find him.”

“How would we do that?” Frankie asked.

“Well... We could go to the café he’s at,” Jonathon said. He motioned across the street to where there was a café. Seated at one of the tables outside it was Mister Corvus, reading his black book, his feet resting on the chair across from him. 

The trio hurried across the street to where he sat. “I was wondering when you’d figure things out. You actually put it together sooner than I thought you would.” He was calm, not looking away from what he was reading.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Frankie asked. Five seconds after meeting him, she already found him irritating.

“The center of events, their true love, and someone who wasn’t originally affected. If anyone was going to find me, it would be you.” Corvus closed his book, setting it on the table, and swung his feet off the chair, finally turning to look at the three of them. He had a look to him, like he was examining each of them. “So. I presume that this is where you demand that I tell you what it is that I’ve done and how to undo it.”

“It’d be a start,” Frankie said, her hands on her hips.

Corvus smiled. “Except for the fact that what I’ve done is undoing things in and of itself.”

“Are you serious?” Timothy asked in outrage. “You messed with peoples’ minds, and-”

“And what, exactly, Puck?” Corvus said, looking at him alone. “Did the exact same thing that you did to your town, your friends, and your enemies? I did nothing you didn’t do, all in the name of finding your true love.” Then he looked to Jonathon. “I also gave you back your parents. They’re together again. It didn’t seem like any of you had objections to a little mind meddling before.”

They were silent for a moment, having some difficulty with that logic – he was right. Timothy had done the same thing, gleefully, and, granted, he’d had good intentions, but he had still robbed people of their ability to consent to what he was doing. And it had changed the people of the town, against their will. They could say it was for the better, but...

“It’s not the same thing. What Timothy did... It helped open their minds, accept that just because being gay is something different, it doesn’t make anyone wrong or broken because of it. You... you closed them back up, let them have their hatred and bigotry back. That’s not better. That makes it worse, for everyone.” 

Jonathon’s words seemed to draw Corvus’s attention. He was silent for a moment, contemplating. He shook his head after a moment. “Words such as that are simple. However, there is the reality to deal with.” He looked back to Timothy. “You toyed with the minds of people who had both treated you with disdain and those who’d never met you. There were the advocates for you, many of whom you also changed. In a very real fashion, you did what many accuse you and others like you of doing. Explain to me why that’s better.”

“Are you kidding?” Timothy exclaimed. “Yeah, it made them change. It made them willing to accept others. How is that a bad thing? There are going to be more gay people here. Their sons, their daughters, their family, their friends... They would cut out of their lives these people because of it. What’s wrong with helping to open their minds?”

Now Corvus smirked. “For the same reason you didn’t take advantage of your dear Mister Cordin that day. Consent. None of them asked for what was done to them. You disregarded their right to say anything about what you were doing to them, to say yes or no. The effects were banished from their minds, they don’t remember them, and you seem to believe that makes everything you caused to be okay. It’s not. You still did the deed. You had them do things they didn’t want to, and all in the name of getting your own happy ending.” He shrugged. “I merely helped... reset the board. Put it back where it started. Where it should be.”

“Are you serious? All of this is because you want to teach a lesson about consent?” Frankie demanded. “This isn’t just some lecture. We’re talking about people here. Yeah, okay, this was forcing their minds open, but they’d have kept them closed otherwise. That would have hurt others. Just look at the crap Timothy dealt with before!”

It took Timothy a moment to follow that. He was stuck on the thought of how using the pansy’s magic could be seen as denying those people the ability to consent. He had stopped Jonathon from his attempt to have sex with him that day by the lake, and that had been because he hadn’t thought that it was really Jonathon consenting. He knew that those under the pansy’s influence had made out, and he knew that Cooper and Cole had done far more than that, but they’d been different from most of his classmates, having been hiding from their own feelings. The rest of them had been straight from the start, or, at least, hadn’t been in love with whoever they’d made to feel what the pansy had made them. 

Suddenly, Timothy had a thought. “What exactly are you looking for here, anyway?” he asked Corvus. “An apology? You can’t really undo what’s been done to everyone here.”

“You’re so sure of that?”

“I am. Because that’s just as much of a violation of their ability to consent as what I did. You playing with peoples’ memories, even if it is in response to the pansy spell... That’s just as wrong. And just because it’s in response to a wrong, that doesn’t by default make it right. So if you’re so concerned about consent, why would you do this to everyone all over again? Or to people who didn’t get affected at all, like Frankie? Or my Mom? Or Jonathon’s parents?”

Corvus’s expression darkened as Timothy spoke, and by the time he was done, the look on his face spoke of a desire on Corvus’s part to reach out and stop him from speaking, however possible. But Timothy’s words had also struck a chord with Jonathon and Frankie, who recognized the truth of them. 

Frankie leaned against the table. “That’s right. You messed with my mind. Timothy didn’t do anything to me, but you?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked Corvus over, trying to figure out what he was really after. 

“I believe that is more than enough, Corvus.” The three teens turned to see Miss Tebbit approaching them. Her appearance made Corvus jerk in surprise. “It seems they’ve seen through your arguments for you being in the right. You have done enough today. Shall we simply end this?”

If Corvus had been irritated at Timothy’s realization, he seemed downright furious at the appearance of Miss Tebbit. “It’s not your place to interfere.”

“You have made it my place by being here, Corvus.” She gave the trio a look, smiling gently at them. “The words we have to share are not for them. I suggest that we retire elsewhere for this discussion. But for now...” Miss Tebbit cocked her head, and something in the air seemed to shift. A shadow passed over the sun, and proceeded to linger. There was a gentle yet firm rumble in the air. A storm was rolling into town. 

Timothy, Jonathon, and Frankie looked up at the unexpected shadow – it had been bright and sunny mere moments before. When they looked back, both Miss Tebbit and Mister Corvus were gone.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Frankie asked the question on all their minds. “What the hell just happened?”

***

It seemed that somehow, everyone in town had managed to get rained on during the brief storm. The rainfall had really only been a brief sprinkling, rather than the raging thunderstorm that had occurred a few days ago. Eventually, the storm clouds passed and dispersed, allowing the sun to come back out and dry up the water on the ground.

And, as suddenly as things had changed, the attitudes and memories of everyone were as they were before Corvus had arrived, after the play.

Timothy, Jonathon, and Frankie had wandered towards the park. “You know... Corvus did have a point,” Jonathon said.

“Are you really agreeing with him?” Frankie asked in disbelief.

“Not agreeing, but... Messing with peoples’ minds, even with good intentions... That’s not really something that I consider a good idea to do. I mean, you got pretty pissed with Corvus when Timothy pointed out that he messed with your mind.” Jonathon looked rather bothered about this, the realization that Timothy and Corvus had engaged in the same behavior seeming to hit him pretty hard. “Even knowing that it was pretty much the only way that we’d be able to be free about who we are... that I’d have the courage to come out... I don’t know.” 

“I know what you mean,” Timothy said softly. “I tell myself that they wouldn’t have listened, that just talking and trying to convince them would never have been enough, but... I get it. I changed them, the same way they’d change me if they’d had the choice.” He seemed to suddenly pull into himself as he really thought about the comparison. He didn’t seem at all comfortable with the fact that he and Corvus had done similar things.

“And the fact that you are haunted by such deeds is the difference between you and Corvus.” The trio turned to see Miss Tebbit standing there. She gave them a small smile. 

“Miss T! What... What happened?” Timothy asked.

“Much of it is complicated, and I am bound by prior promises to refrain from speaking of it. Suffice to say, Corvus is a... prior associate. He and I have run afoul of one another previously. Though you have certainly managed to throw him for a loop, and for that, I am rather grateful. Perhaps you’ve managed to convince him to refrain from further intrusions where he was not invited. Regardless, things here are now as they were before he came.” She looked to Timothy, her expression becoming almost maternal. “Timothy. When you think of what you did, tell me, what is it that you believe you were doing it for?”

He took a moment, considering the question and what his motivations had been when he’d gone running through the town, changing people. “At first it was... to make them understand what I went through, being gay. How that made it so much difficult for me to live here, the way they treated me. Because I was the one they saw. The one they knew was gay. But I knew that I wasn’t alone.”

“And that those like you would face the same if you didn’t do what you could to help them now. That their lot would not be improved unless you took action now.” Miss Tebbit nodded in approval. “That is what separates your actions from Corvus’s. You wished to help others. He sought to uphold the status quo. You feel remorse that you took actions that you disapprove of now, with wisdom and compassion tempering your decision. He would do so again and again without thought. That is the difference between the two of you.”

“It doesn’t feel like much of a difference,” Timothy said.

“Perhaps it is not. But it is one. Often in life, the distinction between something we remember with pride and something we think of with shame is a fine line. It is not just the choices we make that matter. It is the intent behind those choices that helps to define them.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I say this to help you accept the struggle that I am aware that Corvus left you with. It is easy to do something regrettable. Far more difficult is to make amends.”

“And how exactly do I do something like that when the town doesn’t even remember it?”

“Whether or not they do is immaterial. You do. Let that guide you.” She looked to the others, smiling. “And if you were to ever forget, I believe you have those who would remind you.” Jonathon took Timothy’s hand, entwining their fingers, and Frankie placed a hand on his shoulder, both confirming that they’d be there. It got a smile from Timothy, so perhaps that was a start. Miss Tebbit smiled at them once more. “Now, I must be going. I have a flight to catch.” She pulled all three of them into a hug, again smiling as she turned to leave.

Despite the attempt to be uplifting on her part, Timothy did not seem to be as comforted as Miss Tebbit had sounded to have wanted. He got home and retreated to his room, his usually burrowing space. 

He’d been there for an hour when there was a knock on the door. “Hey,” Jonathon said, giving him a smile. “Can I come in?” Timothy smiled slightly at Jonathon, wordless permission. Jonathon crawled onto Timothy’s bed, wrapping an arm around him, taking his hand. “You’re still thinking about what Corvus said, huh?”

“Hard not to.”

Jonathon gave Timothy’s hand a squeeze, doing what he could to offer any kind of comfort to his boyfriend. “Timothy, remember that day at the lake?” It wasn’t like either of them could really forget – there was only one day at the lake worth remembering. Jonathon waited for Timothy’s nod to continue. “I would have had sex with you that day. I tried. You stopped me.”

Timothy nodded. “It would’ve been like... raping you.”

“I wanted it. I wanted you. I still do.” Jonathon paused for a beat. “But you stopped me. YOU stopped me. You knew there was a line you shouldn’t cross. Maybe now you think that line’s not in the same place it was then, but you knew there was a line there.”

It wasn’t more than they’d said before. As much as Timothy wanted to believe it, he was still having trouble with the thought. But in Jonathon’s arms, in the privacy of the space that had always been first his and then theirs, it felt like, if not enough, then a start. And maybe that would be good enough for now.

“I know you’re right, but... It’s not that easy to feel it’s okay.”

Jonathon smiled. “That’s what you have me for. I love you, Timothy. And I always will.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
